


least expected outcome

by skateboardstepdad



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: (briefly) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, Near Death Experiences, Rating: PG13, Secret Relationship, character cameos, dubious understanding of medicine on the author's part, non-graphic injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skateboardstepdad/pseuds/skateboardstepdad
Summary: Percy and Annabeth are the heirs to neighboring kingdoms with a long history of bad blood. When ancient tradition dictates that Percy must be married within the year in order to assume the throne, he’s at a bit of a loss as to what he’s going to do.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Sally Jackson/Poseidon (Percy Jackson)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 83
Collections: PJO/HOO Big Bang 2020





	least expected outcome

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to my betas [mel](https://darlinglissa.tumblr.com/) & [pema](https://waterflowrr.tumblr.com/)!  
> click [here](https://docs.google.com/document/d/15ZWibXQ_MOthzzgGJeOZQ8n7Xkrb925qF16nLWp15Y8/edit?usp=sharing) for context on the names used in this bad boy & [here](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/498773727458482529/) to get a better sense of some of the Boat Words. neither are necessary but i hope they'll enhance ur enjoyment/understanding of the fic!

On the morning of his twentieth birthday (like every morning he spent aboard the H.M.S. _Anaklusmos_ ), Percy woke at dawn. He would climb up the foremast and sit on the yard of the topmost sail, then watch the sun rise with nothing to occupy his thoughts besides the terns saying their hellos and the waves gently embracing the hull. Despite the festivities waiting for him ashore, he dared not stray from this routine.

For once, though, his mind was drawn to things other than barometric pressure and wind speeds. Today marked the end of a six month voyage aboard the _Anaklusmos_ . Today was the first day in six months where Percy would have to face the full responsibilities of being the Crown Prince of Arcadia. 

It wasn’t every day the heir to the throne decided to join the navy, especially not for an endeavor as dangerous as the one Captain Brunner had planned. Despite the protests from his parents and the massive outcry from the public (after all, with his easy charm and debonair good looks, he was much beloved by his subjects), Percy embarked on the quest to recover the Golden Fleece. After playing an instrumental role in the retrieval of his kingdom’s long-lost and highly precious artifact, Percy’s stint at sea had come to a close. 

Gods, he was going to miss it.

Growing up in the kingdom’s capital city of Stonewick, a major port known worldwide for shipbuilding, fishing, and the pearl trade, he was no stranger to seafaring. That being said, taking dinghies out on jaunts with his best friend that had them home for dinner wasn’t really comparable to . . . this. He had just spent half a year breathing nothing but salt air and being rocked to sleep by the surf every night. Adjusting to the stillness of the land wasn’t going to be easy, nor would re-assimilating into the world of diplomacy and rigidity in which he was raised.

By the time the sun was no longer kissing the horizon, Percy was back on deck and hard at work. As royalty, he was exempt from swabbing the deck and draining the bilge, but that was about it. His days were spent scampering up and down the rigging, his deft fingers proving useful in tying knots and darning sails. His strength was unparalleled amongst the crew, allowing him to hoist the largest sails and move cannons entirely by himself, feats that were almost unheard of. He was an exceptional swimmer, so he was usually the one sent overboard whenever necessary. Charlie, the ship’s carpenter, would occasionally request his clever nature and even cleverer hands to aid in repairs, especially after a nasty storm. When the scheduled watchman tired or fell ill, Percy would readily volunteer to take his place, and he was also known for being skilled in the galley come suppertime, an excellent singer during evening shanties, and wildly funny during late-night tales of plunder and conquest.

Basically, Percy had become a fixture of the crew in a few short months. They were sad to see him go, and he was upset to be leaving them. Despite that, as the sun was climbing higher and higher and Stonewick Harbor was creeping closer and closer, Percy couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit excited. 

After all, almost everyone he loved would be waiting for him on the docks.

The return of the country’s favorite son from months away would have resulted in celebration regardless, but the nature of his arrival falling on his birthday called for fanfare of a caliber reserved only for the most joyous of occasions. 

A thoroughfare had been cleared in advance of the parade (although if you asked Percy, he would insist that it was actually a “ceremonial procession” -- the notion of his city throwing a parade just for him completely mortified him) and banners had been strung across the winding cobblestone streets. Waiting for him at the docks were his parents, his eleven-year-old sister, a brass band, and hordes of his citizens. Many of them had travelled from all over the kingdom for his birthday festivities; that night, while foreign dignitaries and prominent domestic figures gathered in the palace for a ball, there would be overflowing banquet tables and live music and barrels upon barrels of ale in the courtyard for the civilians to enjoy. 

Percy was jealous. He wanted so badly to don casual clothes and dance in the light of the full moon and throw back tankards of ale, surrounded by a throng of strangers that, for one night only, would be his very best friends. 

Unfortunately, he was reminded he wouldn’t be getting that any time soon as the anchor was dropped and the _Anaklusmos_ came to a standstill. 

At this point in his life, princehood was a jacket that Percy could slip on and off at a moment’s notice. Frequently it settled onto his shoulders without even registering in his mind. As he stood at the bulwark, fiddling with the sleeve of his naval uniform and waiting for the gangway to be prepared, the weight he had been without for the past six months wrapped itself around him. His shoulders squared, his spine straightened, his chest puffed out, and his face steeled. There he stood: the portrait of gallantry painted with roguish good looks. 

As the gangway was lowered and Percy’s boots made contact with the dock, the normally bustling city watched with bated breath. He stood at one end of the dock, his parents and sister mirroring his posture and expressions from each other, all four of them perfectly poised. 

He stood completely still, not wanting to move lest he stumbled -- he probably didn’t have his land legs yet, and falling would in no way behoove a future monarch. He made eye contact with his father, who gave him a brief quirk of the eyebrow as if to ask _“Are you ready?”_ Percy answered with a barely-perceptible nod, and the king spread his arms wide.

“Welcome home, Prince Perseus,” he boomed -- projection was a skill drilled into royalty since the day they learned to speak in full sentences. “Your return is greatly celebrated, my son.” Percy bowed his head in response. 

“Many thanks, my lord. It is an honor and a privilege to be back. I cannot wait to reacquaint myself with the people of Arcadia.” He turned to the crowds on either side. “I have missed you all dearly.” 

With that, Percy took one unsteady step forward, the band started playing the national anthem with great vigor, and the onlookers cheered. The princess Estelle took this as a cue to move as gracefully as she could towards him and wrap her arms around his waist. He returned the hug wholeheartedly -- she had always been one of his very favorite people. 

In that moment, he let his princely facade drop, just for an instant. He had missed her dearly. Besides, he knew his people wouldn't fault him for it. They liked a reminder now and again that their rulers were deeply human.

After greeting his mother with a hug and his father with a handshake, the procession began. The band continued to play, trailing behind the royal family as they made their way through the winding streets of Stonewick and up to Arstoria Castle. 

The citizens that hadn’t been waiting at the docks lined the streets, waving flags and throwing flowers at his feet. While a lesser prince may have kept to the middle of the road and merely waved at his subjects, Percy always tried his hardest to interact with as many civilians as he possibly could. He kissed their babies, he shook their hands, he took their flowers and tucked them behind his ears or in his belt. He smiled at each of them, his show-stopping dazzler of a grin that some witnesses swore shone brighter than the sun. 

As a result, the walk from the docks to the castle (which normally took an able-bodied person of any age twenty minutes at most) lasted almost two hours. Nobody seemed to mind.

Waiting for him just inside the entrance hall of Arstoria Castle stood Percy’s very best friend. 

Grover of the Northern Wood had been Percy’s valet since they were five years old. His uncle Gleason was a Lieutenant of the Royal Guard, and one day, with no other options for childcare, Grover’s mother asked Gleason to look after him for the day. While Grover was wandering the castle grounds, he had bumped into Percy, and the two of them instantly clicked. After fifteen years, they were much closer to brothers than friends.

Truthfully, the position of “valet” wasn’t typical for an Arcadian, but, after seeing how well the boys got along, it seemed wrong to keep them apart. Every day, Gleason and Grover would make their way to the castle for their respective jobs, until Grover turned eighteen and decided to take the royal family up on their offer to move in with them. Unfortunately, the motion of the ocean did not agree with him (as they learned at far too young an age to see such horrors of the human body), so when Percy joined the navy, Grover stayed on land. 

To be honest, crossing the threshold of the castle had always been a little strange for Percy -- entering his childhood home didn’t relax him instantly the way the ritual seemed to calm most other people (although the way his father’s hunting hounds would greet him by baying and tail-wagging always managed to warm him). Even here, he had always been expected to carry himself with great poise and dignity. Despite that, seeing Grover for the first time in months instantly put him at ease. 

Percy grinned widely. “Hi,” he said, and then Grover leapt at him, wrapping him up in the tightest of hugs. Percy returned it instantly.

“I missed you, man,” Grover mumbled into his shoulder. 

“I missed you. I promise not to go again?”

Grover stepped back. “Nah,” he said with a grin. “We both know that’s a lie. Just, uh, you know, give it some time. Hang out around the kingdom for a bit, or at _least_ on land.” 

Percy laughed, then reached out to tousle Grover’s mop of curly brown hair. “I’ll try, G. Hey, did you-”

“Percy,” Poseidon interjected, not nearly as loud as he was at the docks but equally assertive. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but we have much to discuss. Come with me.”

No longer needing words to communicate after years of practice, Percy shot Grover a look that said _“Sorry. Meet me in my quarters?”_ to which Grover nodded a response. With that, Percy turned and followed his father to the solar -- one of the very few rooms in the castle that was exclusively for the royal family.

When he was young, the solar had felt special. Even the housekeepers weren’t allowed in -- the only person granted entry that wasn’t Percy’s blood was Hestia, his mother’s lady-in-waiting who had essentially been a second mother to him. Now, though, it felt a little cold. Sure, Percy appreciated the privacy, but it was far too isolated from the rest of the world for him to feel much comfort.

Percy pushed aside the heavy oak door to see his mother sitting at her desk, across from his father at his. They spent most of their evenings sitting there in silence, content to occupy a space together without having to talk while pursuing their individual endeavors. As he entered, she looked up at him and smiled.

“Percy,” she said warmly. “Come here. Take a seat.” With a wave of her arm, she gestured elegantly to the overstuffed and well-worn selection of sofas and easy chairs. He sat down heavily on his favorite couch and exhaled forcefully without even meaning to. The _Anaklusmos_ was top-of-the-line and brand new, but no matter how decadent the ship in question was, it would never offer the same comforts as this welcoming, much beloved furniture. 

He spent a moment just sitting there, his eyes closed and his head tipped back, allowing himself just a few seconds of total peace. By the time he straightened back up, his parents were sitting across from him in matching armchairs and wearing expressions he didn’t recognize. He began to get nervous. 

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Well, son,” Poseidon responded. “It’s about time we had a talk. You know, you’re twenty today-” 

“Frankly, Percy,” Sally interjected. “Your father and I are getting older. It’s about time we retired.” Realization dawned on him, but he stayed silent. 

“And, well,” said Poseidon. “Our family has an honorable tradition of the heir’s coronation on their twenty-first birthday. It’s not _necessary_ , but-”

“If I don’t, people won't like it. They’ll talk -- they’ll doubt me, or the House of Augur will lead them there.” Whatever calm the sofa had brought him dissipated in a heartbeat. “Okay, so what? I have a year. You’ll announce that you’re stepping down in . . . six months? Eight? Confirm their suspicions and let them adjust to the idea, and come August, I’ll be king.” His head swam. His whole life, he had known he would be king, but he never realized it could be so soon -- his main concern had never been the ‘if,’ but the ‘when.’

“Percy-” his mom started, looking pained. “Think about what that means for a moment. Just- just consider the implications-”

“No, I get it,” he said. “No navy, more pressure, more responsibility. I understand what it means-”

“I’m afraid you don’t,” said his father. “The Law of Cypris, Percy -- _‘A man without love is not fit to lead.’_ If you’re not married within the year, you won’t be able to rule.” Percy’s heart sank deep, deep into his stomach.

“And if I’m not king…” Percy started. Poseidon nodded grimly, his face stone. 

“If you’re not king, House Jackson ends with me.”

Percy groaned loudly, flopping facefirst on to his bed.

“Wow,” Grover said from his favorite chair beside the bookshelf. “Miserable already. You’ve only been on land for three hours. That must be a new best.”

“Shut up,” Percy mumbled into the duvet. They stayed like that for several minutes -- Grover wasn’t the type to pry, especially because Percy would (eventually) tell him everything. Finally, he decided the silence had gone on long enough. He pushed himself up onto his forearms, supporting his upper body by bracing them against the bed.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I hate my stupid, god-forsaken cousins?”

Grover feigned a gasp. “What? You? Saying disparaging things about House Auger? I’m shocked. Truly.” 

“Hey,” Percy objected without any heat. “I mean, come _on_ . Maybe this whole ‘two houses’ debacle made sense when Kronos IV couldn’t produce an heir, like, two _centuries_ ago, but gods! House Jackson has been ruling for the last 180 years. You’d think House Auger would’ve given up by now.” 

“Huh,” Grover responded. “Yeah, they should’ve dropped a long time ago. They haven’t even tried to fight you guys for it in a while, right?”

“Yeah,” Percy said, rolling over onto his back. “Like, at least a hundred years since they last even _threatened_ violence. I don’t even know the last time they tried a poorly-executed siege.”

“That sucks, man,” Grover said. Then he looked up. “So, you’re getting hitched, huh?”

“I guess,” Percy sighed. “Maybe I’ll find a decent conversationalist at the ball tonight. Otherwise, looks like I’ll get stuck with . . . I don’t even know who.”

“Lady Drew, of Aphros?” Grover suggested. “What about Princess Kelli? Or Isabel, Duchess of the Canyon?”

Percy threw a pillow at him. Grover just laughed.

The good thing about being the guest of honor at a royal ball was that Percy was the last to arrive. Unfortunately, it meant that it was impossible for his entrance to go unnoticed.

After he got dressed in his most ornate and least comfortable clothes, he made his way to the ballroom’s rear entryway. It was there that the court herald waited for him. 

“Hello, Prince Percy,” Jake said with a grin. “Only seven minutes late. I see the Navy really did have an effect on you.” 

Percy laughed. “Hey,” he said, with the barest hint of faux-indignation. “Aren’t you supposed to be announcing me or something?” Jake offered him a mocking salute, then grabbed his bugle and made his way into the ballroom. 

X

Annabeth had heard the gossip -- who hadn’t? _Perseus, heir to the throne of Arcadia, was devastatingly handsome. Wherever he went, women threw themselves at his feet._

The rumors, as it turned out, were completely true. Annabeth had never been one for swooning, but, well. Upon seeing him, she understood. When he entered the ballroom, he was met with great applause, but she was almost too stunned to clap along with the crowd. 

He moved with the ease only lifelong-royalty could, with excellent posture and sure steps. His broad shoulders nearly threatened to tear the seams of his forest green jerkin, the hue only accentuating the vibrant sea-green of his eyes. A silver circlet was nestled in his dark curls, and his deep brown skin almost glowed in the abundant candlelight.

As the herald announced his presence, he smiled at the crowd from the top of a grand staircase, showcasing a mischievous glint in his eyes and pearlescent teeth. He was, without a doubt, the most handsome man she had ever seen. She thanked the gods that royal etiquette dictated he would converse with every woman his age in the room. 

X

It was the night of Percy’s twentieth birthday and if he had been working around the perimeter of the ballroom systematically (like he was _supposed_ to), he would have arrived at Lady Nancy Bobofit next. Despite that, he didn’t much care for Lady Bobofit, and upon catching sight of _her,_ he couldn’t bring himself to care.

She was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous person he had ever seen. Tall and slender, she exuded grace in every one of her movements, from the extension of an arm to the rise and fall of her chest. Full lips and high cheekbones were paired with vast expanses of smooth skin and lean muscle. Her rampant beauty left him dumbfounded.

Luckily for him, she was in the middle of a conversation with Piper, Princess of Agape -- a longtime friend of Percy’s -- who noticed his plight and took pity on him. 

“Ah, Annabeth,” she said, shifting so that she was facing both of them. “Have you met the prince?”

She turned to face him and his heart leapt into his throat. Never before had he encountered someone so gorgeous, nor had he had someone gaze upon him so intently. Any other man would’ve cracked under the intensity, but Percy wasn’t so easily intimidated. 

He bowed to her, taking her left hand and pressing a chaste kiss to it. He didn’t break eye contact once. 

“My lady,” he said, ever the picture of charm and grace. “It is, truly . . . a _pleasure_ to meet you.” Once he had straightened, she returned the gesture with a curtsy, also refusing to look away from his eyes. 

“Your majesty,” she replied. “Happy birthday. It is a lovely ball.” He brushed off the praise with a smile. 

“It’s alright, but it would be greatly improved by a dance with you. Care to join me?” he asked. She turned to Piper who smiled.

“Please,” Piper said. “By all means. I’ve been meaning to speak to Lord Grace anyway.” With that, Annabeth took his hand, and he led her to the center of the ballroom. The band was playing an upbeat song and the pair began a more casual two-step. 

“So,” Percy began. “I thought I had met every heiress my age on the continent.” She smiled.

“I’m sure you’ve met the heiresses of all the countries yours has positive relations with,” she replied. “The friendship between our nations is . . . new.” Realization dawned on Percy immediately. 

“I see,” he said. “Well, thank the gods for diplomacy. After all, it allowed for us to share this dance.” 

She smiled, and his entire chest warmed. “Yes. A wonderful thing indeed.”

For the second time that day (a number that had not been reached since he was fourteen years old), Percy threw himself face first onto his bed. 

“Why the dramatics?” Grover asked, following him into his bedroom. “I would’ve thought you’d be excited. For Christ’s sake, you spent the whole night dancing with that girl. Doesn’t that solve nearly all of the problems you were groaning about this afternoon?”

Percy rolled over onto his back. “Not at all,” he replied. “That was Princess Annabeth. Of Attica.” Grover sat down heavily next to him. 

“I’m sorry, Percy,” he said. “That’s . . . hm. Unfortunate, to say the least.”

Percy slept fitfully. Normally, him expressing interest in a princess would’ve been extremely well-received by his parents, but . . . not the princess of Attica. Attica was Arcadia’s neighbor to the north, and for centuries, the countries had been warring over their borders. They hadn’t been actively engaged in warfare for a little over a decade, but tensions between the nations remained high. The princess was only at the ball because of a gesture of goodwill Percy had forced his parents to make, following the alliance of Attica with the country of Ceres, a longtime friend of Arcadia’s. 

Suffice it to say, the courtship of any dignitary from Attica, let alone the _princess_ , would not provide the easy solution Percy had been hoping for. 

The following morning, Percy was awoken by his mother knocking on his chamber doors.

“Percy?” she called. “Get dressed and join us for breakfast in the royal quarters.” He groaned a response to her, then heaved himself out of bed. Fortunately, servants had left warm water in his bathroom tub, and submerging himself (even briefly) did wonders to energize him. 

After his bath, he shaved and dressed quickly, all the while dreading the conversation he knew was waiting for him. Upon reaching the dining room in his parents’ quarters, he busied himself with tussling Estelle’s hair and filling his plate with breakfast foods. Really, he was trying to avoid conversation without angering his parents, but they saw through it.

“Well?” Poseidon asked, drumming his fingers impatiently against the table. Percy sighed. 

“Right to business, then?” he asked. Sally, ever the peacemaker, quickly intervened. 

“Good morning, Percy,” she said. “Did you meet anyone new last night? Or maybe remember someone?” 

“Yes,” he responded without thinking, then began to kick himself internally, over and over again.

“Excellent!” his father smiled. “Who?” 

“Um. Lady Dare?”

“The Princess of Delphi?” his mother asked, then beamed when he nodded. “That’s excellent, Percy!”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” he replied. “We, um, discussed meeting this morning, actually. I should get going.” With that, he beat a hasty retreat, leaving his breakfast uneaten. 

Desperate to have some time away from the castle, Percy made his way to the Stonewick marketplace. If nothing else, he knew he’d be able to blend in to the crowd -- while people would likely recognize him as their prince, they weren’t likely to stop him and make a fuss over his presence.

It was nice, really. A beautiful August morning, the sky was clear, the sun was warm, and the breeze was welcome. He managed to purchase himself a pastry from his favorite bakery’s stand, leave a few coins in the hat of a talented busker, and find the vendor with the freshest fruit in the market. After 40 or so minutes, he found himself in the craftsmen’s portion of the agora. 

Eventually, he caught sight of a merchant selling what he purported to be “Rare and Vintage Books.” The king had quite the collection, and as his birthday was coming up, Percy decided to peruse the table’s contents, assessing if one of them would make for a good gift for his father. That’s when he looked up and noticed who else was at that very stand.

“You know,” Percy said. “That copy’s a fake.” Annabeth looked up from the book in her hands, smiling when she realized it was him.

“Interesting,” she replied. “How can you tell?”

“The binding,” he said, grinning back at her. “It’s glued. An authentic edition would be sewn. We have a copy in the castle library. I could show it to you if you want . . .”

“My lord,” she began, fake-scandalized. “Do you have impure intentions?” He laughed.

“I might,” he countered. “But I suppose that’s a risk you’re going to have to take.” 

Instead of taking her in through the front gates, Percy led Annabeth around the estate walls until they reached a gate nearly overgrown with ivy. He grinned at her as he forced it open with his shoulder. 

“Isn’t that a security risk?” she asked with a smile. He laughed.

“It would be, if we were anywhere close to the castle. The grounds are huge, though. I’ll show you.” He took her hand in his and pulled her into the dense tree line.

Despite the detours and stop-and-starts and all the times Percy missed a turn in the woods because he got distracted by how _pretty_ Annabeth was, they eventually reached the library. 

One of the largest rooms in the castle, the library was gorgeous. Massive shelves lined the polished marble floor, so meticulously polished it reflected the vaulted ceiling two stories above. Vast windows allowed for huge swaths of natural light and the end of the room opposite the double doors housed a sizable fireplace and a number of comfortable chairs around a long oak table. Annabeth was dumbstruck.

“Percy, this is--” she began, shaking her head. He gave her a moment, but it became obvious to him that she was totally speechless.

“Come in,” he said, pulling her into the stacks with a wide smile. “I’ll show you where we keep all the old, expensive books.”

X

Annabeth felt like a kid in a candy store. 

The books in Percy’s library were really, _really_ rare -- like, _one of five copies ever printed_ rare. She sat at the table and poured over them, running her fingers over their coarse paper and leather spines. After a few minutes, she registered Percy’s eyes on her. She looked up to see that he was watching her with a soft little smile.

“What?” she asked with a self-conscious smile. He blinked, as if waking from a daydream.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his smile widening. “I just- I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so beautiful.” She blushed.

“Percy . . .” They were close -- _when had they gotten so close?_ Her hand crept towards his. His gaze flickered from her eyes to her mouth and back again. 

“Annabeth,” he replied, close enough that it only needed to be a whisper. They leaned closer and closer together, until-

The double doors of the library flew open, banging against the walls. 

“Percy!” Annabeth turned to see a lanky young man a few years older than them with a mop of curly brown hair. Percy groaned.

“I’m a little preoccupied-” he started, but the man in the doorway cut him off.

“I’m really sorry Percy, but Jake said he knew you were back from town and your father has requested your presence in the throne room.” Percy sighed, then stood up.

“I’m sorry Annabeth,” he said, taking her hand in his and pressing a chaste kiss to the back of it. “Grover, can you please walk her out?”

“It’s alright,” she said, rising as well. “I can show myself the exit.” The man -- Grover -- grinned widely at her. 

“No, Princess, I insist,” he said. “After all, I know all of Percy’s most embarrassing secrets.”

Early the next morning, Annabeth entered the castle grounds through the gate Percy had shown her the day before. She was reluctant to go waltzing into the castle in an attempt to find him, so she opted for the woods. Fortunately, she didn’t have to go far.

He was in a clearing, surrounded by dummies, and in the middle of some kind of training. In his right hand was a meticulously crafted bronze sword that he wielded with ease, slashing the effigies with deadly precision. He had obviously been there for a while; his skin glistened and his hair was plastered to his forehead. 

She stood there for a while, just watching him. It was difficult not to, as he moved with such a captivating grace. Minutes passed, until he had deemed every dummy sufficiently disemboweled. With that, he wiped his brow and walked to the base of a tree, where his leather scabbard laid next to a big dog lounging in the grass. He sheathed his sword, then fell onto his back next to the dog, giving it a scratch on the head. 

“Who’s this?” Annabeth asked. Percy shot up, then grinned widely when he saw her. 

“Meet Bo,” he said. “My father loves to hunt, but Bo here isn’t really. Um. The hunting type, so I inherited him.” They both looked at Bo, who was wearing a big doggy smile that suggested he had very little behind the eyes, then began to thump his tail against the ground when he realized they were looking at him. 

Annabeth sat next to Percy at his invitation, leaning against the tree trunk behind them as he took a long drink from his canteen. 

“So,” he asked, wiping the excess water from his mouth. “What brings you here? Come back for the library?”

“Something like that,” she responded with a smile. 

Days passed like that, with the two of them inventing “chance” meetings and stealing away to spend private moments together. One week after Percy’s twentieth birthday, Annabeth knew she _had_ to return to her kingdom. Fortunately, Percy knew it too, and asked her to meet him at the shore. 

He had written her a detailed set of directions which he slipped into her hand the day before. After following them to a tee, she found herself right outside a cove just before sunset. 

“Hi,” Percy said, emerging from the path to the cove just moments later. He took her hand, then led her down the trail to a beautiful, sheltered beach. 

Lying on the soft sand was a large, navy blue blanket that Percy had painstakingly spread flat; there was not a wrinkle or fold to be found. Beside it was a picnic basket and two bottles of wine. Upon noticing that she had been rendered completely speechless, Percy beamed at her. 

“Come on,” he said. “Sit with me.” She did. 

“Percy,” she started. “This is . . . beautiful. Really.” Percy blushed.

“Yeah, well. I had to see you off properly. I’m, um . . . I’m really going to miss you.” 

“I’m going to miss you,” she said. Their eyes locked. She leaned into him. His hand found her hip. “This past week with you has been -- well, unlike any other. I’ve never felt like this before.” 

“I haven’t either,” he replied, their foreheads almost touching. “Lady Chase, _you_ are unlike any other.” He tilted her chin up, and as their lips met for the first time, the sun kissed the horizon. 

X

Seven days after his twentieth birthday, Annabeth told Percy of a little cabin that belonged to the Attican royal family and hadn’t been used in years -- not since her father passed away nearly a decade ago. It was just over the border between their countries, fully furnished, and would be about an hour-long ride in either direction for the both of them. They made a plan to meet there the following midnight, and it quickly turned into a nightly occurrence. 

Weeks passed like that. Neither of them got much sleep, and people started to notice. Percy’s family assumed it was a result of increased training on his part, but Grover wasn’t so easily convinced. Then, Percy dozed off in the middle of a conversation and Grover couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Percy, what’s going on with you?” he asked when his friend jolted awake a few minutes later. “You’ve been acting so . . . strange lately. When’s the last time you slept?” 

“Every night,” Percy said, attempting to sidestep the concern. “At least, for a little bit.”

“Come on, man. You know you can tell me anything.” The hurt in Grover’s voice almost made Percy falter. 

“I know,” he said, dropping the facade of normalcy. “I’m sorry. I- I’m okay, I promise. I just . . . can’t talk about it.” Grover nodded, relieved. 

“That’s alright,” he said, patting Percy’s shoulder. “I just . . . want you to be good. I love you, man.” Percy grinned.

“I love you too, man.” Bo, who was lounging at Percy’s feet, began to thump his tail against the ground.

Late that night, Percy pulled Annabeth even closer to him as they laid together in the cabin’s bed. 

“Grover’s getting a little . . . suspicious,” he said, more or less into her hair. “I didn’t really know what to say.” 

“Did you tell him?” she asked, half-asleep on his chest. Her hand absently explored the expanse of his bare skin. 

“No,” he replied. “I could have, but, well, I don’t know. I like that what we have is just us.” She smiled up at him, and his heart constricted with affection for her. 

“Me too,” she said, then buried her face into the junction between his shoulder and neck. His arms tightened around her waist, and even though he knew he should be going, he couldn’t bear to move her. He fell asleep with a wide smile on his face.

Three months and twelve days after his twentieth birthday, Percy’s parents asked him to meet them the day before he embarked on what was probably his last-ever naval mission. 

“Hello, son,” Poseidon said after the knock, opening the solar door with a gesture to the couch. “Have a seat.” Percy did, wary of his father’s tone.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking from his mother to his father and back again. Sally smiled.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” she said. “We just haven’t heard much about your courtship with Lady Dare recently. How is it going?”

“Um . . . it’s fine,” he said, shifting in his seat nervously. 

“Excellent!” the king boomed. “We’d like to arrange a meeting with the Delphinian royal families in the next month or so. We don’t want it to appear that your potential marriage to the princess is only so you can assume the throne -- the sooner you can wed, the better.” Percy’s heart fell, landing heavily somewhere below his stomach.

“I see,” he said, stone-faced. “Um. I’ll see if I can arrange something, although I wouldn’t count on it if I were you-”

“What’s going on, Percy? You’ve been acting so strangely lately.” His mother attempted to make eye contact, but he refused to meet her gaze. 

“I guess I’m just, um, nervous for the voyage tomorrow. The Admiral is having me captain the crew-”

“I don’t believe you,” Poseidon said, suddenly stone-faced. “That’s all you ever wanted when you were younger.”

“What your father means to say-” interjected the queen, shooting her husband a glare. “-is that we’re worried about you, and we know what it isn’t. Did something happen between you and the princess? Has your courtship ended?” Percy, who was never one for keeping secrets, finally felt the stress of the last three months weigh on him suddenly, and decided he couldn’t take it anymore.

“No, alright?” he snapped. “Nothing happened with the princess of Delphi. Nothing _has_ happened between us, and I doubt anything will. Are you happy?” The king’s face grew stormy.

“You lied to us?” he asked harshly, voice increasing in volume. “How dare you? That behavior is in no way becoming of the future _king_ -”

“Oh, you think that’s unbecoming?” Percy was getting equally thunderous -- after all, he had inherited his father’s hair and eyes, his propensity for the water, and his temper too. “I lied to you because I’m in love with the princess of Attica. Alright? And if I needed to, I’d give up the throne to be with her. In a heartbeat.”

“How could you betray us like this?” Poseidon was reaching a level of fury that Percy had never experienced. “You’d betray your country, your family, for _her?_ ” Percy opened his mouth to retaliate, but his father wouldn’t let him. “No. Get out. No son of mine is a traitor to his nation.” 

“Then maybe I’m not your son,” Percy said, ice-cold. In an instant, he was gone, the solar door slamming shut behind him.

Percy rose amidst a gray dawn, dressed in his naval uniform and slung his pack over his shoulder. As softly as he could, he stole into Estelle’s room and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. 

“Percy?” she asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes with the back of a hand. 

“Hey kid,” he whispered. “I have to leave. Go back to sleep, okay? I love you.”

“Love you,” she murmured, then immediately returned to dreamland. Percy smiled at her, then crept to the dining room in the royal quarters. 

Yawning widely (as he had only gotten about two hours of sleep), he slid a note out of his breast pocket and placed it on the table. 

> _I’ll write when we’ve arrived in Epirus. Should be about two days._

> _-P_

With the sky rumbling overhead, full of charcoal clouds, Percy set out for the docks.

X

His parents weren’t the only people Percy had promised a letter to, which was why Annabeth had been wracked with anxiety for the last few days. It had been a week since he had left on his voyage, and there had been absolutely no communication on his part. To make matters worse, there had been a massive storm off the coast the day he embarked. She was attempting to distract herself with a book Percy had smuggled out of his library for her, when there was a persistent rapping at the door.

“Come in,” she called, and the castle’s head of staff, Malcolm, came bursting in. 

“Princess,” he said, panting heavily. “Urgent news from the village of Ogygia.”

X

Three months and eighteen days after Percy’s twentieth birthday, it was revealed that Annabeth had been right to worry. The crown prince had been assigned to captain the H.M.S. _Atlantis,_ a sleek and compact schooner. Having only weathered storms in the massive galleon that was the _Anaklusmos_ , he was wildly unprepared for how the towering swells and blinding gales would toss the little ship back and forth. Eventually, the crew of seven could stand it no longer. 

Percy lost his footing and hit his head hard against the deck before being thrown overboard. He managed to grab on to a broken-off piece of the hull, and then he felt his consciousness slip away. 

It was unclear how many days he had been adrift -- when he would look back on it, he could only recall a few hazy instances of blinking his eyes open to the sting of salt or the calls of gulls or the angry sun before they slid back shut. Eventually, however, he washed ashore; as luck would have it, the tides had pushed him onto the southern coast of Attica. 

A day or two later (presumably), a young woman happened upon his prostrate form. His naval uniform, while tattered, still displayed the flag of Arcadia proudly, and this woman -- Calypso -- had almost no idea how to proceed. After enlisting the help of a neighbor to carry him back to her cabin, she made her way to the town magistrate; he was the member of the village with the most direct line of communication to the governmental officials in the capital of Blackoak. 

It proved to be a wise choice. The magistrate was able to recognize him as the crown prince of the neighboring nation, and within a day, the news of the unconscious Arcadian prince had reached the castle. While it had been intended for the queen, she was visiting a duke in the north to discuss economic development, and as a result, the information fell into Annabeth’s lap. 

The timing worked out exactly as well as it could have. It was almost like fate. 

X

At the princess’s direction, Percy was rushed to the Attican royal residence of Coverly Hall, as well as the best doctor in the country. The prince of Arcadia arrived first. Annabeth rushed out to meet the carriage that brought him, making sure to bring a few of the palace’s broader footmen with her. 

Her heart seized when she saw his limp form. Percy had always been so vibrant, so lively -- he almost seemed to pulse with energy below his skin. The man that was eased out of the carriage was the exact opposite. Pale and drawn, his chest seemed to rattle with every shallow breath he took. Determined not to show weakness, she attempted to force down the white-hot lump in her throat.

“Take him to my quarters,” she said. “Our guest must be shown the absolute utmost respect. I’ll move to the guest wing until he heals.” The footmen nodded at her, and as they carried him into the castle, her heart broke even more. “Be careful with him! We don’t want to. Um. Compromise his health further.” It felt as if hours passed with her worrying about him, alone, when in reality, it was a matter of minutes before the doctor arrived.

“Doctor Solace,” she said. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“Of course,” he replied with a bow. “Anything for the princess. Please, show me to the patient.” Moving as quickly as she could without breaking into a run, Annabeth led him to her personal chambers, her heart pounding against her ribs so loudly she was sure the doctor could hear. 

Annabeth waited outside the chamber doors, hands shaking at her sides — she couldn’t bear to see the way Dr. Solace would maneuver Percy’s gaunt body, how easily his once-tense, still muscle-bound figure could be pushed to and fro with very little effort on the doctor’s part. Eons might’ve passed like that. She couldn’t tell. In reality, it was only about twenty minutes until Solace summoned her in. 

“I won’t mince words,” the doctor said. “He’s going to be alright.” Annabeth felt the tension leave her in a near-exhilarating rush as the man opposite her pushed on. “It seems as if he’s thoroughly exhausted and mildly concussed, although it will be difficult to know for sure until he regains consciousness. It’s pertinent he gets lots of water; I’m concerned he’s dehydrated. Keep him on a diet of broth and the like until he’s awake. Oh, and he should by no means be walking until at least a week after he wakes up. I expect he’ll make a full recovery. Feel free to write me with any questions, yeah?” 

“Thank you,” Annabeth said, clasping one of his hands between her own. “I- thank you. Please, see Mr. Pace on your way out. You’ll be heavily compensated.” He nodded at her, offering a warm smile, then exited the room. Steeling herself with a deep breath, Annabeth turned to Percy. 

He was in her bed, propped up against the pillows and tucked under the covers. He looked so small there, her heart twinged. Despite the efforts to convince herself that he would appear notably healthier, he remained sickly and pale. Confident Malcolm wouldn’t allow anyone in her room, she pulled a chair close to the bed and took Percy’s hand. It was there that she fell into a fitful sleep.

Annabeth woke early the next morning to the calls of birds outside her window. Stretching the cricks out of her neck, she straightened up, pressed a chaste kiss to Percy’s hand (which was still clutched in hers), then made her way to the desk in the corner of her room. Despite the sour note Percy and his parents had left things on, she knew they’d still be desperate for news. Fixing him with a last, lingering look over her shoulder, Annabeth closed the door softly and set off to find a courier. 

Annabeth’s day passed in a haze, consisting almost exclusively of reading by Percy’s side -- that is, until her mother returned. Knowing by now what the queen would expect upon her arrival, Annabeth made sure to dress in an elegant gown and met her mother in the Great Hall. 

“Annabeth,” the queen said, her voice ringing out the second her daughter entered the room. “Malcolm has just informed me of our . . . guest. Would you care to explain your thinking to me?” Annabeth took a deep breath, then stepped forward. 

“Frankly,” she began, even and steady. “It seemed unwise to do anything besides take him in. If we care to strengthen this new relationship with the kingdom of Arcadia, forcing the injured prince to fend for himself would be the worst possible course of action.”

“I see,” Athena replied, equally cool. “Still, that does not account for your choice to house him in this castle, let alone your private quarters.” Annabeth almost faltered -- almost.

“Mother, this is not the kind of friendship that should proceed slowly. If we expect our citizens to recognize the new alliance between our countries, it is pertinent we immerse ourselves wholly in a warm diplomacy. As for putting him up in my quarters, I, um, assumed they would be most similar to his personal chambers in his own castle. I want to avoid as much confusion or disorientation as possible upon his awakening.” Appeased, the queen nodded once. 

“I respect your decision,” she said. “You show excellent potential in diplomacy. You will make a great queen someday. Dismissed.” Her heart warming, Annabeth bowed to her mother and quickly left the room. 

X

Three months and twenty-one days after his twentieth birthday, Percy’s head was full of cotton and his tongue had turned to lead -- that was the only explanation as to why he felt this way. Furthermore, his throat had cracked like a desert landscape, his eyes burned and their lids were dense, and his arms . . . well, one of them was notably colder than the other, and in its hand he held something soft and warm. After a vast amount of effort, Percy almost managed to open his eyes halfway and shifted his gaze from an unfamiliar bed’s canopy to a very familiar form.

It turned out that Annabeth’s hand was the source of the befuddling warmth, his right arm the only part of his body out from underneath the covers and crossing the expanse of bedding to get to her. A book straight from his family’s library balanced on her knees, she was leafing through the pages idly with a deep furrow in her brow. 

“Hey,” he croaked with a weak squeeze to her hand, wincing at the soreness of his throat. Her gaze snapped from the page to him, clearly and totally off-guard. “You look worried. What’s wrong?” She laughed, voice just the slightest bit bitter and wet. 

“You drool when you sleep,” she said. Laughing, he pulled her as close as possible. A beat passed. “Don’t do that again, you understand?”

“Never,” he replied, lips pressed into her neck. “I promise.”

Despite their shared desire for Percy’s continued sojourn in Attica, he and Annabeth both knew his return to Arcadia was pressing -- something only reinforced when, two days after his return to consciousness, a courier arrived with a letter from his parents. 

“What did they say?” Annabeth asked, looking up from her book after Percy re-folded the sheet of paper and slid it back into its envelope. He sighed.

“They’re wishing me a prompt recovery, but my father has also reminded me not to ‘overstay my welcome.’” he said, tilting his face into the warm garden sunlight. “It’s about what I expected. At least our fight’s over, yeah?”

“Is it?” she asked. “Or have you mutually decided to just . . . leave it for later?” 

“Whatever it takes,” he grinned. “Besides, there’s nothing to fight about anymore.”

“Isn’t there, though?” She closed the volume in her hands, then placed it on the bench beside her. “I mean, if our- our _friendship_ is going to continue as it has been, I can’t imagine they’ll take kindly to it.”

“Annabeth,” Percy said, turning to lock eyes with her. The temperature in the courtyard dropped several degrees, instantly. “I- there’s nothing my parents could do or say that could change the way I feel about you. All I could think about before I went under was you.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked with a smile. He rolled his eyes, bright red cheeks betraying his attempted visage of nonchalance.. 

“I just- I couldn’t believe I was going to die without telling you that . . . that I love you.” Annabeth softened instantly, a fire igniting behind her ribs and quickly spreading to the tips of her fingers and top of her head and soles of her feet. 

“I love you,” she said. Any trace of embarrassment cleared from his face as he beamed at her, open and sweet and heart-wrenchingly _Percy_. His hand darted out to squeeze hers briefly, the most intimate action they dared partake in outside of a locked room. 

“Let me court you,” he pleaded. “The right way. Publicly. I’ll speak to my parents about it, but this- _you_ matter to me.” She smiled, albeit a little sadly, which he correctly interpreted, near-immediately. “Don’t say anything until it’s a yes, alright?” She nodded, a smile taking her by surprise. 

“Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined . . . you. Us.”

“Me either. Nice, isn’t it?” She laughed.

“Yes. Absolutely delightful.”

A week passed. Percy had regained his strength to the point that he no longer needed a crutch to walk, nor did he still look like he’d crumple if a breeze hit him the wrong way. Essentially, he had recovered enough to return to Arcadia. Both he and Annabeth were devastated. 

As he saddled up the stallion Annabeth had loaned him, melancholy wrapped its way around their ankles like leaden weights. 

“Take care of yourself,” she said, the words almost getting caught in her throat. “No more drowning, alright?”

“Understood,” he said with a smile, pulling himself into the saddle. “I love you.”

“I love you,” she said, craning her neck to give him a chaste kiss as he leaned down to meet her. “Write me?”

“Always,” he told her, and with that, he was gone. They both bit back tears.

X

“Has our . . . guest departed?” Annabeth looked up from the proposed treaty in her hands, detailing the establishment of trade between Attica and Delphi. Athena stood stiffly in the doorway, looking so uncomfortable it made the princess want to cringe. 

“Yes,” she said, refusing to let her voice waver at the mention of Percy’s absence.

“He was . . . nice. Very polite. Your grandfather would have had a conniption if he knew the Arcadian heir dined at our table.” Annabeth remained silent as her mother stumbled on. “I suppose he is . . . not terrible. Especially for one of them.” While deeply flawed, the statement was about as sentimental as her mother could be.

“I agree . . . which is why I am going to be entering into a courtship with him.” Seeing the way Athena tensed, Annabeth pressed on, retaining her composure. “This relationship will promote camaraderie between the nations like nothing else. If we decide to wed, our business acumen and analytical prowess, when combined with their resources and technical knowhow, will usher in an era of untold wealth and prosperity -- for both our people.” She could tell her mother was placated, but Annabeth herself was not yet finished. “And I love him.” 

“I see,” Athena said. “I would never have chosen this path for you, which is maybe why I respect it so much. Annabeth . . . I am proud of you.” It was with a sly smile that she delivered her final remarks. “At least my grandchildren will be handsome.”

X

Exactly four months after his twentieth birthday, the queen’s soft voice came to him from just beyond his chamber door.

“Percy?” she asked tentatively. “May I come in?” Upon receiving permission, she entered delicately; ever since he had returned from Attica, Percy had been treated like a delicate flower. Sally sat gingerly on the side of his bed and inhaled deeply, reaching to gently lay a hand on his outstretched leg. Once she had steadied herself sufficiently, she began again.

“I’d like to discuss with you what happened before you left.” Percy tried to cut her off, but she wouldn’t let him. “No, I insist. Percy . . . how much do you know of my life before I married your father?” He was ashamed to admit the truth.

“Not much,” he said, cheeks flushing. “I know your parents died when you were young and you weren’t born into a title, but that’s about everything.”

“I’m not surprised,” she said, tension beginning to ease its way out of her face and shoulders. “My family was . . . as poor as dirt, to put it nicely. I was the opposite of highborn, from the kind of family where a second set of clothing was a luxury few were afforded.” To say Percy was confused was an absolute understatement. 

“What?” he asked, sitting up. “Then how did you become the queen?” She smiled.

“Percy . . . you’ve forgotten the Law of Cypris already -- the root of all this strife and you can’t even be bothered to remember it? _A man without love is not fit to lead._ It’s love that you need, dear. Not a wife. Marriage is . . . a representation of that love, a cue to your people that you’ve found the one thing that can turn you from a leader or a good man to a king. Your father and I met by chance one day in a small village to the south after he had run away in an act of late-teenage rebellion. We were in love -- that’s all that mattered. It wasn’t my status or family that did it. Do you understand?”

“Not really,” he said. “If that’s really all that mattered, why did Father react like he did? How could he?” Sally sighed.

“Your father sees so much of himself in you,” she told him. “I dare say too much for comfort. You inherited his strength and his natural leadership, yes, but also his temper and recklessness and wildly stubborn tendencies. He was terrified you’d come to a rash decision simply because he told you not to. I- I don’t think what he said that night was fair or remotely true, but you have to know the second he said it, he regretted it.” Standing, Sally pushed his unruly curls back and pressed a sweet kiss to his forehead. “Believe me, Percy. We understand what it’s like to be young and head-over-heels in love. Whatever you decide to do, we trust you. Just . . . act wisely.” 

With that, the door shut, and Percy was left alone with his thoughts. 

X

One year, four hours, and fifty-two minutes after Percy’s twentieth birthday had come to a close, he fell heavily onto his bed that was now, technically, in the _king’s_ quarters. 

“Ugh,” he groaned. “Is it just me, or was that the absolute longest ball of all time?”

“What did you expect?” Annabeth asked, pulling the doors shut tight behind her. “You know nations celebrate the anniversary of their founding -- surely their collective ends and subsequent, unified rebirth would be notable.” 

“Yeah, but . . . look out the window. It’s dawn! That’s absurd.” Annabeth laughed, then nudged him until he rolled over. Her coronation gown on a heap in the floor, she crawled into the newly vacated space. Percy leaned over to snuff the bedside candle, then pulled her into his arms. Moments passed, serene and warm, until Annabeth broke the silence with a laugh. 

“What?” he asked, half-asleep already. 

“Well,” she said, gaze falling on the ring that adorned the hand wrapped around his shoulders. “When Attica decided to ally itself with Ceres, I think this was probably the least expected outcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> i was fortunate enough to have some absolutely amazing artists lend their talents to this work!  
> click [here](https://felibubu.tumblr.com/post/622580056303239168/this-is-the-last-of-my-part-in-the) to see percy and annabeth at the ball by [felibubu](https://felibubu.tumblr.com/)  
> click [here](https://wishuponafandoms.tumblr.com/post/622579531658756096/new-session-archive-of) to see them in the library by [wishuponafandoms](https://wishuponafandoms.tumblr.com/)  
> click [here](https://octopars.tumblr.com/post/622579919726264320) to see percy waking up after his injury by [octopars](https://octoparsart.tumblr.com/)  
> many thanks to the moderators of the big bang, as well as my absolutely stunning betas. here r some quick notes:  
> 1\. the briefly mentioned conflict between house jackson & house auger was completely based on the war of the roses, which was a real-life english conflict that inspired game of thrones  
> 2\. i wish paul was in this fic  
> 3\. bo was entirely based on my dog hershey & bo's presence was an excuse for me to think abt him lmaooo  
> 4\. check me out on tumblr! i don't post v much but hopefully that'll change lmao  
> thanks for reading!


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